Page 2 of To Redeem an Earl

It was not so muchthe quadrille he had just danced, but rather the insipid dancing partners he was seeking to escape that had driven Richard out to the balcony, where he deeply inhaled the cool spring air in relief.

The crowded Astley ball was the first of the Season and so far had proven to be long and tiresome. His dances were an unceasing procession of pretty, empty-headed misses without an original thought in their heads. He just needed to find one that was … well … full-headed—or even half-headed—and this hunt would be over.

He reached into his pocket for his silver cheroot case, an infrequent indulgence of his, when he overheard female voices from the far end of the terrace.

“What a travesty of an evening! There is not one interesting gentleman here. Spoilt, entitled bores and rogues, every last one! I thought I might fall asleep from the tedium during one dance, not to mention I danced with at least threegentlemenwho I know for a fact, due to Lady Astley’s wicked prattle, are keeping mistresses. What business dotheyhave seeking a wife?”

Richard smiled to himself as he took in a puff of cheroot smoke, listeningto the tirade and the heavy sarcasm threading the wordgentlemen. Now, this sounded like an interesting girl, who roasted an entire ballroom of peers in their absence.

“Perhaps they will reform for the right bride?” A second woman had chimed in, this one clearly a romantic optimist.

“Lily, you are such a naïve romantic. Polite society is hypocritical, not to mention unfair to women. King George is not even cold in his grave, and his son is rumored to be arranging to put Queen Caroline on trial for her affairs when his own infidelities are legendary.” Richard looked around to ensure no one could hear the injudicious girl. The chit would be ruined if someone overheard her disparagement of their current monarch.

She continued, mimicking in a husky, lowered voice,“I will be king, but you will be tried, harlot wife! Be careful not to trip over my mistress there by the door. Or the one behind you. No, no, do not sit on the bed. I will never hear the end of it if you sat on Mrs. Fitzherbert’s favorite hiding place. Don’t worry, Maria, you can come out from under the bed now. It’s just my ridiculous wife. I will get this awful woman out of here before she squashes you beneath the mattress.”

The second girl giggled as Richard choked back a laugh.

“Shhh, Sophia! If anyone hears you talk this way, you will be ruined.” Richard was glad to hear one of the girls had sense.

“Oh, horrors! I will stop receiving invitations from people I do not like and be forced to live outside of polite society as a spinster with only an unspecified dowry to keep me company. Oh—wait—I cannot think of a more glorious death than to leave thetonbehind!”

Richard smirked at the cynic’s sentiments, wishing he had danced with this opinionated debutante. If he must marry, he should minimally save himself from a boring girl to ruin his breakfast every morning for the rest of his life. A woman like this one could brighten his meals. And, he reminded himself, he could still fill his evenings with far more delightful company than a dutiful wife, even if she happened to be half as entertaining as this girl. He just needed to get this pesky duty to marry and sire an heir taken care of so he could get back to his real life.

He scowled at the intruding thought. Damn Annabel Ridley for delaying his marriage plans with her willful reticence to fill the accepted role of a stoic wife who looked the other way when a man did what he was wont to do—albeit when he was not in the company of ladies. Damn her for her prudish ideas of monogamy and marital fidelity. Marrying his cousin, the Duke of Halmesbury, just because of Richard’s little indiscretion with the kitchen maid still grated. His fault for trying to marry a naïve country noblewoman who did not understand how marriages of thetonwere conducted.

Richard was brought back to the present by the current conversation.

“But, Sophia, what of Lord Saunton whom you danced with earlier? He is ever so handsome,” the second young woman urged. Richard started at hearing his own name. He had danced with the satirical shrew?

The firstgirl, the acerbic one, snorted. “You jest! Lord Richard-Can’t-Keep-His-Pants-On Balfour, the infamous Earl of Saunton? Not only is he the most arrogant peer in the realm, he also happens to be the randiest, most despicable peer in the realm! It was all I could do to politely bat my eyelashes and smilegenteellyat his banal small talk. If I were to marry a cad such as Lord Saunton, I would need to hire only old, ugly housemaids just to save myself from the horror of his dallying right under my nose! Not to mention saving poorhousemaids from his attentionsso thatthey would not be coerced into ruinous relations for fear of being dismissed. Lord Saunton is a licentious blackguard, and I have nothing but pity for the poor chit who is stupid enough to accept his hand!”

Richard froze, his cheroot hovering inches from his mouth. He dropped his hand; breathing suddenly pained him as he stepped farther back into the shadows, his heart squeezed in wounded remembrance.

Somehow the girl’s words had struck him in the chest, freezing the blood running through his veins. Was this how people saw him? And had housemaids only accepted his attentions out of fear of dismissal?He had not dallied with many maids, especially not since the incident in the Baydon Hall stables when Annabel Ridley had caught him with her kitchen maid eighteen months earlier, so how had this chit heard about his trysts?

His late mother’s voice echoed in his ears—a ghostly voice from the past.“Lucas is such a heartless cad. If he must dally with other women, could he at least respect me enough not to break my heart in my own home with my own servants? I do not know what I willdo if this situation continues! Perhaps I should get rid of all the attractive ones. And the young ones. Or, perhaps, all the women on our staff.”

Richard’s mother had been weeping to her sister over tea in the blue drawing room. A mere seven years old, Richard had been hiding behind a sofa when they had interrupted his playing with his pewter soldiers. He had all but forgotten that sad and confusing afternoon until this moment. He was not sure he even knew what the conversation had meant at the time. Unfortunately, he now definitely understood the long-ago discussion. That afternoon had been only weeks before she grew ill and faded away, as if she had not the will to fight for her life.

Oh, my God! Am I an awful, laughable caricature of my father?

Richard grimaced when he recalled his own unfavorable thoughts of his former betrothed’s condemnation just moments ago. How she had broken off their betrothal after discovering him in the stables with Caroline, the kitchen maid. Like a clap of thunder shaking the earth, in a terrifying moment of clarity, he realized just how wrong his behavior toward Annabel had been.

Trembling, he leaned back against the wall. His knees had gone weak, and he did not trust himself to be able to stand.

The girls on the balcony came around the corner, having finished their conversation, to return to the ball. The taller of the two women, the clever but causticchit, stepped into the light spilling from the ballroom doorway. He knew it was Sophia of the sharp tongue as soon as he saw her. She was the so-called empty-headed miss, Miss Hayward, who had danced with him earlier. He was struck by how wrong his first impression of her had been. The tricky minx had fooled him regarding her level of intelligence and depth of personality.

Her friend followed, a teeny little thing with rich brown hair whom he did not recognize. In that moment, however, he would barely recognize his own mother returned from the dead because he had eyes only for the heartless, truthful termagant who had just shattered his illusions as a pleasure-seeking cad. How could he have been so wrong about her? This was no shallow miss. This was a sharp-witted girl who saw too much. Her stabbing remarks had cut him to his very soul, which was bleeding out while a bloody ball continued in the background—the sound of merriment a jarring accompaniment to his sudden onslaught of conscience and humiliation.

Richard shrank back, ashamed to be seen in this moment of his rude awakening. He prayedto remain unseen in the shadows, with the ballroom lighting now falling in their eyes, and breathed his relief when they looked straight into the ballroom while they exited the terrace.

He needed to escape the suffocation of the Astley ball and looked around for a route through the garden that would lead him to his coachman in the mews. His need to be alone overpowered him.

With his mother’s words echoing in his head, he confronted the fact that he was well on his way to becoming the replica of his libidinous father, who had caused his mother such misery that she had not the will to live.

Was this the man he had become? Was this who he wanted to be? Had Annabel, his former betrothed, and Halmesbury, her husband, been correct in disparaging his behavior? He was afraid these questions answered themselves.

His mind reeled as the long-ago memories whirled through his head. His father driven mad by the pox because of his indiscriminate taste in lightskirts, cyprians, wicked widows, housemaids; all were welcome in the late earl’s bed, which led to his painful death years earlier. Richard had barely managed to keep the shameful affair private.

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